


trust fall (catch me i’m plummeting)

by BadWolfGirl3



Series: ngymobblepot rewrites (nothing is as painful as staying stuck where you don’t belong) [4]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But I’m okay with that, Episode: s04e15 The Sinking Ship The Grand Applause, First Kiss, How I think the pier scene should have gone, Hugs, I need sleep, Love, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Soft Edward Nygma, Soft Oswald Cobblepot, This was waaaayyyy softer than I thought it was gonna go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:47:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25215718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadWolfGirl3/pseuds/BadWolfGirl3
Summary: It’s really quite fitting, that this is where he’s finally going to die. All of the major moments of his life as of late seem to revolve around this damned pier; he’d been frozen here. He’d not quite so fatally shot Oswald here.It’s his own fault, anyway. For letting his emotions get in the way of self-preservation. For refusing to betray someone who’d betrayed him over and over again, the one person who’s ever seen him. Despite all his righteous talk about not letting feelings cloud his judgement, Edward Nygma spends a lot of time doing just that.He really is a hypocrite.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Series: ngymobblepot rewrites (nothing is as painful as staying stuck where you don’t belong) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1826824
Comments: 8
Kudos: 101





	trust fall (catch me i’m plummeting)

**Author's Note:**

> So I started working on this at 12:30 am and figured I’d actually get this done before 3 am. No dice. Apparently inspiration only strikes on the weekends at ungodly hours? Who knows. 
> 
> In other news: I’ve decided to make this kind of a series? I guess a better word would be a collection- a series of scenes rewritten so that Ozzie and Ed get together/are implied to have gotten together/whatever. I’ve got at least four other rewrites planned besides this one, based on my running document of fic ideas (I counted this morning, we’re up to forty different bullet points, y’all), so I figured keeping them all in one place would be a good thing. 
> 
> So. That’s a thing. Please enjoy my rewriting of the pier scene- the one where Oswald saves Ed, not the other one we don’t like talking about. Though I do have words about the other one, but I won’t get into it. Ed POV, yay! Forgive me for any inaccuracy/OOC-ness, I get the whole Stupid Ed/Edward/Riddler thing so mixed up.

Try as he might, Edward doesn’t think he can wriggle his way out of this one.

“Hey, I got a riddle for you: what’s got a bullet in its head and sinks to the bottom of the river? You!”

The cackling of the henchmen behind him rings in his ears. As he weighs any and all options, Ed comes to the conclusion that the only outcome will be his death and consequent dumping into the river. He’s on his knees, he has no weapon of any kind, and even if he did, it would be a two-against-one fight. His mouth is practically ripped to shreds, his right leg has a puncture wound that’s going to get infected soon, if it hasn’t already.

Not that it matters, really.

It’s really quite fitting, that this is where he’s finally going to die. All of the major moments of his life as of late seem to revolve around this damned pier; he’d been frozen here, played for a complete idiot here. He’d not quite so fatally shot Oswald here.

Oswald. Now isn’t that a can of worms to open right before he dies?

(Isn’t that the best last thought to have, a mental image of sea colored eyes and wild black hair, “ _you are the best friend I’ve ever had_ ” echoing in his mind)

“The real torture?” Ed sighs and runs his tongue along his damaged gums, the resulting sting and burst of iron taste grounding him to this moment, keeping him away from the past. The pier is rough under his knees, the sky bright and almost blue over his head. “Is that those idiotic words will be the last I ever hear.” There’s no response, only tense silence, and Ed feels his stomach lurch.

It’s his own fault, anyway. For letting his _emotions_ get in the way of self-preservation. For refusing to betray someone who’d betrayed him over and over again, the one person who’s ever seen him. Despite all his righteous talk about not letting feelings cloud his judgement, Edward Nygma spends a lot of time doing just that. He really is a hypocrite.

It’s better to get it over with. “ _Just do it!_ ”

His last thoughts drift to Oswald, try as he might to think of something, _anything_ else. The way he’d look at him, touch him, how he looked past all of Ed’s layers, all the sharp points and jagged edges and twisted mental images and just seen _him_. The colour of his eyes when Ed had tried to kill him- both times. How no matter how _hard_ Ed tries to hate him, tries to convince himself he would be better off with the Penguin dead, he’d never be able to sever the connection between them.

He was fated to be forever tied to that man, he thinks. Nearly snorts as he remembers a younger, much more naive Ed thinking the exact same thing (if only that Ed could see him now).

It briefly occurs to him he still meant what he said to Oswald, back when everything was normal and good and _right_. Words uttered under a borrowed robe with the heat of the fire and a cup of ginger and Oswald’s thigh pressing into his own, reverent and true:

_“I would do anything for you.”_

If what he’s been through today isn’t anything, he doesn’t know what is. How very fitting.

He refuses to close his eyes. He will take death as it comes with the knowledge that he kept his promise.

The searing pain of a bullet to the back of his head never comes.

Two gunshots ring out, and suddenly both thugs are dropping to the ground next to him. Without thinking, Ed grabs one of the discarded guns and whips around, ready to defend himself.

It’s Oswald.

Mind reeling, half formed thoughts and bits of information swarming around in his head like flies, Ed struggles to keep himself grounded as the other man limps towards him. He shouldn’t be here. He has just saved Edward’s life, again, and _he shouldn’t be here_. “Oswald!” He takes a deep breath. “How? Did you already kill Sofia?”

Oswald opens his mouth, seeming to say something else, then thinks better of it. “No. She left the mansion to pursue Jim Gordon.” Ed can’t decipher the facial expression that follows.

_What? So why didn’t he just-_

Ed can’t seem to get any of his thoughts straight. Nothing makes sense. He lowers his gun. “Why didn’t you just stay at the home? Wait until she came there and kill her?”

“Then I wouldn’t have been here on time.” He says it so nonchalantly, like it doesn’t make Ed want to completely crumble to his knees.

“You gave up your revenge for me?” His voice is so, so small, tired and confused and maybe just a little bit hopeful.

Oswald sighs, almost contemplatively, his shoulders rising and falling with the action. He seems to think for a moment, then limps forward. It still isn’t close enough. “Trust is so very hard to find in Gotham.” He pauses, just for a moment, thinking. “But I trust you, Ed.” Oswald’s face is soft and open, but somehow Ed feels like the one on display.

He says it like it doesn’t tilt his whole world completely on its axis.

“How?” How could Oswald Cobblepot ever trust Edward Nygma, the man who’d lied to him, destroyed everything he’d built, tried to kill him at least three times, poured figurative salt in his wounds by manipulating him and playing to his weaknesses? What could possibly make him ever want to fall backward into Ed’s arms, when all he’d ever done was prove he’d never catch him, always leave him falling?

Oswald sighs again, looking sad. “Do I really have to say it?”

Oh.

_Oh._

Ed is quiet, for a long, long time. _He still loves me. Everything I did and_ he still loves me.

It is Oswald who breaks the silence, putting the gun that was still in his hand into his pocket. “The Dentist… he tortured you. Tried to make you talk.” He’s quiet for a minute, must be turning his words over in his head. “You wouldn’t. Why?”

There it is. Why, after everything Oswald had done to him, would Edward refuse to cut his losses and save his own hide? A riddle impossible to answer.

Except he knows why.

Edward slowly puts the borrowed gun into the waistband of his pants and steps forward, closing the distance between them. They are standing nose to nose, toes almost touching. He can feel Oswald’s hot breath puffing against his face.

He can’t say it. Not yet, not with the past and it’s pain still pressing down on him like a tangible weight on his chest, not with everything they’ve done and everything they’ve said still echoing in his mind. There are some wounds still to raw to prod at just yet. 

But maybe he can take a step forward.

Reaching down, Ed gently takes Oswald’s hand, cradling it in his own like something precious. Oswald looks wary, like he’s about to run any second, but he also looks hopeful. Edward feels it too. He brings his hand to his lips, slowly, oh so slowly, revelling in the patch of soft, cool skin. He leaves a smear of blood behind, red and stark against the white of his flesh. It feels like a promise.

Oswald lets out a shaky breath, eyes fluttering shut for just a moment, and slowly raises the same palm to his cheek, pressing gently. Ed sighs and turns into the touch, inhaling the smoky scent of his cologne. Oswald carefully gets up on his toes, guiding his face towards him. Something tightens in his stomach, but it’s not an unpleasant feeling. He is reeling, falling fast towards the inevitable, powerless to stop it. 

He wouldn’t even if he could (he knows Oswald will catch him).

“Oswald, wait, are you sure you want to-”

“Ed.”

“It’s just- my mouth, and-”

“Edward.” Oswald brings his other hand to frame Ed’s face, looking at him with a fond smile, small and soft on his lips. His eyes are so, so blue. “Shut up.”

And then he’s bringing their lips together like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Gasping and scrambling for purchase, Ed reaches to grab any part of Oswald he can, finally settling for an arm wrapped around his waist and a hand buried in his hair (it’s as soft as he’d always imagined it would be). Their first kiss is iron tainted, the taste of old pennies flooding both their mouths, clashing with the soft movement of their lips, the gentle sighs and gasps.

It is so very _them._

Oswald’s tongue makes its way into Ed’s mouth, gently exploring, careful not to aggravate any of his wounds. He can feel tears rising up behind his closed eyelids, so he just grips the shorter man tighter. All he wants to do is fuse them together, so that he doesn’t know where one of them ends and the other begins.

They pull apart, sucking in cool breaths of air. There is blood smeared around Oswald’s mouth and Ed wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all, except he’s not sure it wouldn’t come out as a sob.

“Oswald.” Ed swallows, trying to push the words past his lips. His throat feels clogged. “I… I-”

Oswald cuts him off with a soft peck, nothing more than a quick meeting of their lips. “Shh…I know. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

Edward nods, relief flooding through him. Oswald _knows._ Oswald knows and he's here, and he still _loves him back._ His vision blurs behind his glasses and he squeezes his eyes shut, willing the tears to go away.

The shorter man sighs, soft and fond. He understands. "Come here," he says, holding out his arms. Bearing himself for him.

Edward collapses into his arms, digging his face into the junction between Oswald’s neck and shoulder. The weight of the day presses down on him, and he goes boneless, a few of those damn tears escaping his eyes as the other man gently runs his hands up and down his back. The scent of Oswald all around him is heady, makes his thoughts spin in a good way. The fur of his coat tickles his neck.

They stay like that for a while. Birds fly overhead, boats pass with their cargo. The world keeps on spinning and Ed finally feels _grounded_.

It isn't until his back hurts with the strain of bending down so much, coupled with the aches in his jaw and leg, that Ed thinks to let go. With a deep breath, Ed pulls away from Oswald, looking out over the pier.

“I have a strong desire,” he says, voice full of disdain, reverting back to his old mask of cold, calculating, distant, “to never, ever see this pier again.”

Oswald sighs exasperatedly, mouth quirking up at the edges. He knows. He understands. “I agree.” He looks down, and after a moment of thought tangles their fingers together, holding tight. Edward smiles softly and squeezes back, heart thrumming in his chest.

Oswald loves him and… and he loves Oswald. They can work out everything else.   
  
Falling isn’t so bad when you know that there will be someone there to catch you in the end. 

**Author's Note:**

> You know you’re a writer when your search history includes “how to spell nonchalant”, “definition of revel” and “where do men put cologne”. I’m such a mess. Either way, this is one of my favourite scenes, so I hope I did it some justice. I always thought Ozzie was particularly soft here, and I kinda took that to an extreme. Oh well, it was fun.
> 
> Random tangent, I maybe kinda possibly sprained my ankle this week and spent the whole time hobbling around and imagining that this was what it was like to be Ozzie. Rip me. I’m in too deep, guys. 
> 
> Stay safe, everyone! Let me know what you think.


End file.
